


Listening

by hopeless_pianist



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_pianist/pseuds/hopeless_pianist
Summary: "You've never been very good at listening, but here you are. Lying across one of your favourite people in the world, head nuzzled in the gap between her shoulder and neck, fitting perfectly. Your arms hold her shoulders and hers wrap around your back, holding you closer..." Brittana, in Santana's perspective :)





	Listening

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is another one of the fics I wrote back in 2014 and originally posted on FanFiction.net.  
> Again, sorry for any mistakes as I did write this 3 years ago and I like to think I've improved a little since then.
> 
> Written for someone I think I might love :)
> 
> Happy reading!

You've never been very good at listening, but here you are.

Lying across one of your favourite people in the world, head nuzzled in the gap between her shoulder and neck, fitting perfectly. Your arms hold her shoulders and hers wrap around your back, holding you closer.

Listening; you listen to the sound of her heartbeat, to her breathing, her sighs and her questions. In this moment you've have never been happier, felt more alive, move loved than the way you feel in her arms.

And who cares about what everyone says about you. She's perfect, beautiful, kind.

You're the outspoken one, the person that can't help but be a bitch, but you do it to stay strong, no one can break you. If you have to drive people away to keep yourself together then so be it, its not like you care about anyone else anyway. Almost everyone.

And life is hard, you've learnt that lesson. And to think you almost gave it up, living.

She's the one you do it for, the reason you're still breathing. The woman lying beneath you, tangled up in sheets, she's the one to thank for the life you almost took. You owe her everything.

She'd held your face in her hands and traced invisible patterns on anywhere she could reach, arms, back, neck. She held your hand when you stood on the bridge about to jump into the water, pulled you back when you stepped onto the ledge. She was always so innocent, so trusting, but even as you stood in the darkness ready to say goodbye she'd pulled you away and wiped your tears and you knew it was wrong.

But then she'd kissed you and it didn't matter that everyone else would have wanted you to take the step, there was light now, delicate in the form of your best friend. And she'd kissed you, and known what it meant, that you would live a little longer.

You've forgotten how to breathe.

And she talks to you and tells you things you only half understand, her body so close to yours the heat is almost too much. It doesn't effect her, when they call her names; retard, stupid, ditzy, fag... The words brush off her shoulders and onto yours, your own weight to carry for the woman you love so much. And sure it hurts, carrying around something that isn't yours to have to deal with, and sometimes it all gets to much and your words become poison and her eyes become oceans.

You almost drown, saved by only the touch of fingertips, the whisper of meaningless words. The most perfect person in the whole world knows how much it means to you, how important the little things are, and you want to sing and scream and shout and kiss her.

Her hair fans out across the pillow, brilliant blonde and glowing, her arms wrapping tighter around your body and you breathe easy.

And now she's looking at you under the cover of her eyelashes, the only light coming from the hallway of your new apartment, illuminating your new room and bed. A home for the both of you now, away from the people who told you to leave, die. But the way she's looking at you means she knows what your thinking about and she closes her eyes to let you know that she'll listen. She always does.

But this time the words don't come out, you're too busy being the listener for a change, hearing, touching, smelling, tasting and seeing her completely vulnerable beneath you.

And all you can feel is her skin, all you can see is her face, the sounds of your breathing filling the sacred silence.

Lying your head on her chest you listen to her heart beating steadily, alive. You move your hand up the side of her body and her skin feels like satin, her heart rate speeding up and her breath hitching. Grinning into the fabric of the twisted sheets you silently revel in the feeling of warmth and you swear you heard her sigh.

And its her voice that finally breaks the silence,

"I'm glad you can smile."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, it'd be really dark otherwise."

"Hey Britts," you ask her, stifling a yawn, "I'm glad you said yes."

"Me too, San."

You trace your hand down her arm, letting your hand brush past her wrist before playing with the ring around her finger, one of the best things you've ever done in your life, because when you look at her there's no way that this can't last forever. Tomorrow you're both going to the store to get you a ring as well, a sign that they both belong to each other.

"What would you have said?" the blonde whispers, this catches you by surprise, you didn't think that the other woman was going to ask, you didn't even think about it. But of you know the answer, how could you not?

"Yes, of course."

"Ok."

And with that her other hand moves over to your and places something cool in the plan of your and just from touch you know its round with a diamond.

"Happy Anniversary San."

You tear up because you know what this means, the day you didn't jump off the bridge, when you first thought that maybe you would survive.

She shakes her head and tilts your chin, so all you can see is an ocean of blue. The love you feel for the woman looking at you so strong it makes your chest hurt, you made the right decision that day so may years ago.

"The day I stopped listening to the world," you whisper to her, because it breaks your heart that she remembers.

She places a kiss to your lips, soft enough to remind you she's there no matter what.

"The day you started listening to you."


End file.
